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Chester Bennington - 1976-2017

Linkin Park was one of those guilty pleasure bands. Yeah,
they’re one of those bands that sounds like they are locked in the early 00’s, rap/rock,
precursor to screamo—but there was something from the jump that attracted me.
Good production, a couple of singers I could emulate at the top of my lungs
alone in my car well enough, lyrics that spoke to me. That’s really it. That’s
something I learned with 2003’s Meteora. I was at my worst, and like an
enigmatic speaker at the pulpit who sounds they’re speaking directly to you
about your issues, Meteora spoke to my issues.

Songs like Somewhere I Belong spoke to my persistent
displacement, my constant search for home;
Lying from You, Easier to Run, and Figure.09,
all words from my own brain on dealing with grief and guilt. And that’s exactly
where I was when the album came out, dealing with grief and guilt.

The album
is barely over half an hour long and there were accusations of sophomore-itis,
and at first, I felt that. I wished the album was longer or had more songs, but
as I listened to it, over, and over, and
over, I realized it was exactly as long as it needed to be. Breaking the Habit was me. I was the one putting myself into
the situations I was in: drinking, mistreating loved ones, recklessly dealing
with my life through sex and booze. I wanted to take the advice the album was
giving, but I was in it, the tumult
of emotions that I spiraled out of control under.

We all
dealt with 9/11, then my mother died under still yet mysterious circumstances,
was it murder or suicide or some combination thereof? As I collapsed, I cheated
on my girlfriend, but in trying to make those things right, found out how bad
for each other we were anyway, letting myself be abused by her as some sort of
penance. And as I was drinking every day and pining for forgiveness and trying
to come to terms with the death of someone I had been mad at for years, I had
Linkin Park’s Meteora at the bottom of the barrel with me. 36 minutes and 35
seconds of purely 2003. But I’m listening to it now and every damn song still
speaks to me. I’ve heard them a million times in the time sense, but today,
learning Chester Bennington has taken his own life, I can hear my grief all
over again, but I realize it’s because he, the band, some combination, were
dealing with that shit, too.

It’s
exactly as long as it needs to be. Life, however, can never be too long, only
ever too short. I said today, “Depression is fucking hard.” But it’s not just
depression, it’s a concert of emotions and imbalances and imperfections, and
the “it” of it is life. Life is
fucking hard. Those of us who are fucked can’t ask for help so easily. Neither
can those around us see when the threads have frayed to snapping. Chester
reached his point. Will we learn of something in the coming days that says, “ah,
this is why?” It’s possible, but it’s
still unacceptable.

That’s not
to say I’m mad at him. I can’t be mad at those who choose to end their lives, I
know that I’ll never understand their point of view, just as you can’t
understand my point of view; you’re not me. We’re all alone in universes of
infinite space within our skulls, adrift in a universe of infinite space,
surrounded by other people, completely together, completely alone. It’s
impossible to pass judgement on someone who has reached a point where they say
enough is enough. Maybe sometimes they’ll be sick and decide they’ve had enough.
Maybe they know something is coming that they know they can’t, or are unwilling
to, deal with. Maybe sometimes there’s no reason at all and people are just
left in the lurch. It’s unfair. Life is unfair.

My friend Maxximillian
Dafoe (@maxximillian) and I were texting today about my #SpaceFart’s and
#CreepyCrap’s when the news came across my phone. That’s when and who I said
depression is fucking hard to. And she said “don’t blame depression…depression
is just a word for what we’re going through.” It’s a symptom of life, as my
aunt put it in response to my Facebook outcry. My wife pointed out it’s Chris
Cornell’s birthday and those two were at least acquaintances, if not friends.
Was the memory too much? Chester left a wife and kids, not to mention, friends,
family, and fans. “How could he do that so soon after Chris had just done so?”
we might rail. But that’s not a fair question, because I already pointed out,
life ain’t fair and it’s never going to be.

Chester
Bennington and his band Linkin Park helped me through a tough time, I suspect I’m
not alone in this. His death has affected me more greatly as a result. We had a
bond that he had no way of knowing, but I wish he had.

I want to
tout out the line, “it gets better,” but it doesn’t. It gets harder and you get
used to it. Or you don’t. If you ever feel like your rope is fraying, burning
your hands, or snapping out of your grasp, try
to think of something in the future worth holding on for. I’m terrified of
death, myself…I try to look forward to the next Star Wars or superhero movie, a
video game, something to experience. I want to wake up to my family every day
as long as I live. I want to get off of planet Earth and see the heavens for
myself. I don’t want to go.

And here’s the scary part…I’ve
considered it before. I’ve been so afraid of being afraid that maybe just being
done with this ultimate fear would be a release. Does that doom me to Hell? I
don’t think so, but it certainly dooms my family to a waking nightmare. So, I
look forward to my wife and daughter’s faces every day.

I do understand that that might not be enough at that crucial moment
in someone’s life. Someone rich and famous should have every resource to reach
out for help, but we’ve stigmatized through generations that asking for help is
a failure. Not to mention, rich and famous isn’t “happy” or a guarantee of “healthy.”
We need to take care of each other, we have to want to live, we have to want to
remain in this world, and it’s going to take time to get there after bottling
things up for so long. Especially in
our current political climate, the globe over.

My name is J.D. Buffington. I play video games when I can and I love RuPaul's Drag Race. I'm a Virgo and lactose intolerant. I love cats and dogs and live with both. My favorite thing ever is Star Wars. I write horror and a bit of science fiction. What I'm good at is turning nightmares into stories. The thing that I want most, though, is to entertain you with the thoughts that keep me up at night.